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Vibius’ Palace, Rome
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Consul Vitellius Vibius Varro seldom dined alone.

Since the beginning of his public career, the Consul’s wife, Isadria Raia Varro, had always safe guarded Vibius’ well being and comfort. Both of them had a genuine liking of people and it was a family custom to always keep themselves surrounded by those they favored.

The Consul had been known to dine often with his cousins, particularly the deceased Senator Augustus Annius Varro, whom he’d favored greatly. Even the deceased Praetorian Prefect, Gaius Varro, had been well known to drink wine with the Consul often.

It was now in his dining room, that Vibius surveyed his surroundings. The Consul found himself enveloped around pleasant chatter belonging to members of his extended family and close friends, a sound he most graciously welcomed.

The last few weeks had been a stressful time for the Consul under many aspects, and the soft laughter that warmly filled the atmosphere, soothed the elder Gardiani leader.

Vibius sat at the head of the table, his wife seated to his left—a sense of great refined wisdom easily detectable in the Consul’s wife. To the Consul’s right sat Leontus Marcos, the Gardiani Romanae shipping magnate who’d been one of Vibius’ friends since early in his political career. Leontus’ wife, Aria, had also accompanied her husband to the Consul’s dinner table.

Octrilla, the deceased Senator Annius Varro’s wife had taken up permanent residence at the Consul’s palace after the death of her husband and occupied the seat next to Raia. The loss of her husband had clearly aged her—but Octrilla carried herself proudly—with elegance. There was a quiet determination in her to see to the successes of her son, Quaestor Annius Postumus Varro.

Augustina Julia, Legate Flavius Varro’s wife, radiated with a maternal glow, laughing politely at a remark made by Aria at the dinner table. The announcement of her child had come as uplifting news, and had been the only source of recent joy to the Varro family.

Legate Flavius, being the Consul’s adopted son, had asked that his wife be able to stay with his father while he carried out the duties of the legion on the front.

Julia had traveled up with the now deceased Senator Tacitus Julianus to see her husband and the festivities, only to be struck with the chaos that ensued with the Senator’s clouded death. Thankfully she had been unharmed and had returned to Rome, a bit shaken by the turmoil she’d seen there. The news of Julia’s maternity had clearly roused a passion in Legate Flavius that had not been seen before.

Lastly, Aenoria Fena Varro, Quaestor Annius Postumus Varro’s wife sat, sipping from the cup of wine that had been poured for her by Vibius’ abundant number of servants. Her husband had recently been sent to Africa to accompany Proconsular Legate Fortunus, and learn the ways of the military from the Roman general.

It had been heart breaking for the newly wedded to break apart so soon after their marriage. But true to the nature of women in the Varro house, she was composed and unrelentingly diligent in all that she did.

Normally, Vibius Varro was quite an animated entertainer that always enjoyed retelling his battles in the Imperial Senate, and his accomplishments in the east, yet tonight, the elder remained pensive and withdrawn from the general conversation of the family.

When the luxurious meal had been finished, the servants were quick to clean the table off, knowing that the dessert would have to be served. Three bottles of the Consul’s famous “Moscadelletto,” white dessert wine were opened and served to the guest along with plates of finely aged cheese and pickled olives.

Towards the end of the dinner, the Consul finally broke his silence, and begun to speak. All the side conversation hushed, and Vibius was attentively watched.

“I am to leave for Byzantium now that the Emperor has passed the mission to the Seleucid Empire. I have decided that our family is going to make a temporary move out of Rome until my return; it is time for all of you to take a break from the city and collect your rest in the country.

Therefore I have made plans for you to stay at Nikopolis a city in Epirus. Xanthus, the city’s representative to Rome is a member of the Romanae Gardiani and is one of my closest allies. He will watch over you there.

You will all leave, the same day that I leave for Byzantium, so you only have tonight to prepare. Things are on the move in the East, and I must make haste.”

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Vibius’ private study, Rome
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After dinner, Leontus Marcos and the Consul had retreated up to his private study for discussion on the matters that would be taking place tomorrow. The room had been cleared, and all servants had been dismissed for the night.

“Alright, Leontus lets go over everything to make sure the plans are secure and completely perfect.”

The Roman shipping guild leader nodded and walked over to a huge map of the Roman Empire, sprawled on the Consul’s desk. There were red, black, and blue pebbles marking distinct locations that Leontus began fussing over.

“After you leave for Byzantium I will take the assembled fleet and move to the rendezvous point with the fleet that we assembled. I will take 80 of your galleons, and 20 of your triremes. With my 20 galleons and 20 triremes, along with the 20 additional galleons that the Gardiani shipping guild members have managed to pull together, we have the full force that we needed.”

Leontus began shuffling some of the red pebbles that were piled at Ostia down to Byzantium in Africa. Consul Vibius Varro nodded approvingly.

“How is it possible to move a fleet of a 160 ships without being so damn obvious that the all these ships are intended for one destination?”

Leontus laughed.

“Vibius we’ve been working together for a while now, I made full preparations and carried out a large portion of it already.

20 galleons and 10 triremes left Ostia for Byzantium 6 days ago. They have already arrived and are in position.”

The Gardiani shipping guild leader slid the proper number of red pebbles down to the Byzantium harbor accordingly.

“20 other galleons and 5 triremes departed for a harbor in Athens 5 days ago. Of course they have been instructed to bypass the port and head straight to Byzantium, they have also landed.”

Leontus slid more pebbles over to Byzantium, matching the numbers he spoke out of memory. Nothing of this had been recorded for the sake of the cause.

“30 galleons and 10 triremes departed also several nights ago…”

Consul Vibius was not seeing the exact point in Leontus’ method of shuffling pebbles across a map, but merely nodding, impressed by the actions that Leontus had carefully laid out ahead of time.

“So 70 out of a 120 galleons have either already reached Byzantium or are a day’s worth of sail from the city. 25 out of the 40 triremes also are either on route, or already arrived. We have more for the reserve mission, if you know what I mean.”

“Then everything is in perfect order. Postumus is ready. I received a letter from Erastus, Leandre, and Cyril that all the preparations on their part were finished to the best of their abilities. I also received confirmation letters from our private legion legates in the east. They are also prepared.”

Leontus took one deep breath, and held it. The tension was high in his shoulder, and the anticipation was strong. Releasing it with a sigh, the Roman shipping guild leader, staunchly nodded.

“Alright, Consul, may the Gods be with us.”

The Consul nodded and genuinely smiled.

“Trust me friend, they will see it through.”

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Leptis Magna, Southern Tripolitania
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Finding that he had no more time or use being in Africa, he’d left Proconsular Legate Fortunus Julianus’ camp in the dead of night. Tension had been building and rising within the youthful Varro, and he’d felt that something was off key in his acute senses.

No longer finding the need, he’d been preparing for his journey to Byzantium. The Consul was taking far too long with his new assignment. Either the Consul had encountered trouble, or his messages were being intercepted.

To Postumus Varro, neither one of these were an option. Sneaking onto a merchant ship bound for Byzantium. He carried his burdens, eager to leave the blasted desert.

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Antioch, the Seleucid Empire
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A cloaked figure arrived in Antioch, filed by personal staff. The man had traveled to the city in the midst of night, transported by unmarked merchant ships. Champions of the Seleucid Empire had checked the man and his staff over, before allowing them passage.

There was a crucial mission to be gained here, and without the reassurance form King Andronikos. Nothing would occur.

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Erastus’ study in Thessalonica, Macedonia
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“So this is called Wolfsbane?”

The household servant nodded, holding up the plant on the platter for the Thessalonian aristocrat to see up close. The plant looked like a shrub plant that one would find in the mountains. The flowers were dark lavender, and had no odor. Yet, it was not the flower that Erastus’ was interested in. He started at the similarity in awe.

“The roots look exactly like horseradish my lord. Many commoners that venture into the mountain often stumble on this and make the mistake of thinking it is. Just a thin slice of Wolfsbane is enough to do the job.”

Leandre, a nobleman of Philippi, eyed the shorter woman, and then joined Erastus, walking over to his side.

“Will it not taste bitter? He will be able to taste the difference.”

The servant shook her head, and almost seemed to giggle in glee. This caused Erastus to look at Leandre, wondering exactly how treacherous this woman was.

“It won’t matter whether or not it tastes bitter. It’ll be too late for him by then. Besides, if one prepares Wolfsbane just like one would horseradish, the taste will not be too different.”

Erastus didn’t dare touch the plant, but he couldn’t help but eye it again.

“What does it do exactly?”

The nobleman looked up at the “servant” woman, and then immediately regretted it. She looked at him with such devilish intensity, Erastus, almost felt as if her gaze bore into his mind.

Leandre, seeing his friend’s discomfort, snapped the woman’s gaze away by barking out a demand for a reply.

“Most victims of Wolfsbane suffer from paralysis of the limbs first, and then he will be struck with pain in his gut. He will begin to choke, and die due to lack of breath. It’ll start to happen about 15 minutes after he’s eaten the piece. He’ll die within 15 minutes after, 20 if he’s strong willed. 30 if the Gods have no pity on him. But there is no doubt, that he will die my lord.”

Erastus waved her off.

“That is well, leave the plants on my desk, you are excused now.”

The woman took a light bow, and then exited the study, seemingly having enjoyed the idea of someone being poisoned, disturbingly too much.

Leandre cringed.

“Damnit Erastus. I have to do the clean up, don’t I?”

The Thessalonian lord sighed.

“The Consul said no leaks. Go Leandre, do what you must.”

Leandre mumbled about Erastus being too paranoid and nit picky, while he un-sheathed his sword.

It wouldn’t be long until Erastus heard the shriek of the apothecary and the soft thud she made when she landed on the floor. Leandre soon returned, cleaning his bloodied sword off on a piece of cloth torn from the woman’s garment. There was clear irritation in Leandre’s eyes.

“What happened?”

The Philippi aristocrat cringed once more.

“Fucking bitch bit me.”

Erastus could only help but laugh.

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Night Before, Thracia
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A few men of Byzantium had arrived on the orders of one of their city’s magistrates. Cyril of Byzantium had been, for a while now, accommodating to the Magister Militum by providing him with the city’s intelligence information on regular bases.

Byzantium controlled the ranges of the Balkan Mountains due to watch towers that Consul Vibius Varro had established long ago, and generally maintained its own defense through the use of heavy garrison and militia presence in that city. Byzantium also reported frequently the activities of the Asians on the other side of the Golden Straight. The city, due to the high amount of travels going in and out of the city, was often the center of important news that the Magister Militum relied upon. Tiberius’ reports were due, and like always, Cyril had sent a crew of men in which to do this.

A servant girl by the name of Jasnine had accompanied the small band of city officials to serve to their needs during the brief travel. There was a simplistic touch of innocence that the girl carried, her sleek figure wrapped tightly around a thick traveling cloak.

What the men did not catch was a small animal skin pouch, hidden in the inner pockets of her cloak that sheltered two uninteresting looking set of horseradishes…

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The Preparation
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Jasnine entered the makeshift hut, pulling down her cloak’s hood, revealing locks of ebony that cascaded down from the elegant crown of her head. The Thracian girl, shifted uncomfortably at the curious glances of two men busy in the preparation of a meal.

The hour was late, and the usually bustling hut had none in it, except the two occupiers. It worked for Jasnine perfectly.

“My lords, our delegation from Byzantium have brought wine, cheese, and meats to be gifted to the officers of the legion. I’d meant to bring it in, but alas, the load was too heavy, and I was hoping you could help me carry the burden.”

Eyeing the beauty without signs of diplomatic restraint, the two legionary men chuckled out loud, nudging one another. Jasnine could feel her skin crawl as they eyed her up and down.

“Where have they placed it?”

Jasnine, looked down deceptively at the floor, the soft curls of her hair falling over haunting orbs of emerald.

“It is on the wagon that waits outside. If what you are doing is of great importance, I can go back and fetch other men to do it.”

One of the men quickly shook his head, waving that idea off.

“The General would want cheese and wine brought to him from Byzantium to be served with his meal anyway. The Magistrate’s meal is almost complete as it is.”

Nodding, the two men had dropped what they were doing, and headed towards the entrance. As they brushed past the Thracian girl, one of the men rubbed against her. Jasnine simply bit her lip and ignored this, waiting until both had exited the hut to unload the gifts from Byzantium. She glanced around and noticed, with some frustration, that there was a guard standing near the hut. And another… they were watching her. But it was too late now to simply turn away. They would not suspect anything, surely, if she moved about in the hut? She smiled at one of the guards innocently and then turned toward the food. Small pieces of Wolfsbane that had been pre-cut were quickly tossed into the prepared vegetables that would accompany the Magister Militum’s pit roasted chicken meal. But poor Jasnine was not familiar with the ways of the Roman aristocracy. The poisoning of food was an ancient and simple method of eliminating rivals. Consequently, all high ranking Romans established measures to protect themselves from kitchen-dwelling assassins. As heir to the Emperor, Tiberius Julianus was especially careful. The well-trained guards, personal protectors of the Magister Militum, quickly realized that their master was in danger.

Jasnine’s face blanched as the first bodyguard ran to the corner of the hut and grabbed her roughly. She glanced up at him, hoping to see lust in his eyes. But there was only anger. The man shouted, “You put something in the food, girl! Tell me, now, who sent you!” Jasnine, too terrified to speak, said nothing. He hit her in the face and she screamed, shuddering. After a gasp for air, she whispered a few words in Greek. Not understanding her, the man shoved her against the table, threw her to the ground, and repeatedly kicked her. “Tell me now!” When the bodyguard finally stopped his brutal ‘interogation’, Jasnine lay dead on the ground.

“You idiot!” shouted the other guardsman. “Now we cannot find out who sent her!”

The first bodyguard, realizing his mistake, stared at the ground in shame. He was well trained to protect the Magister Militum, but he had failed to consider that the girl would not be able to survive such a beating. For the moment, Vibius’ secret was safe.

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Quarters of the Magister Militum, Thracia
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The wary Magister Militum roughly pushed aside the flap of his tent and stepped out. He had been preparing to travel to Antioch for several weeks now. According to plan, Vibius Varro should have arrived to accompany him on the mission to the Seleucid capital. Something must have caused a delay.

The Proconsular Legate had received numerous letters from the Praetorian Prefect of Rome to hurry the process of the mission, and had added a great deal of stress and urgency to the situation. All this sudden confusion and chaos had given him a throbbing headache.

Word had reached his camp that Consul Vitellius Vibius Varro had finally docked in Byzantium and had scheduled to meet with the city representative and his old team of political brethren from when he’d been a Proconsul. Therefore, there would be no need to expect the man tonight.

Suddenly, he saw one of his private bodyguards run toward the Praetorium. Tiberius’ veteran instincts told him that something was wrong.

The guard saluted and informed the Magister Militum of the most recent events. Tiberius was furious. “Someone tried to kill me?”

“Yes sir. A girl who was accompanying the delegation from Byzantium tried to slip… something into your food. Unfortunately she was… killed, so there will be no information from her. The Byzantines deny any knowledge, but we have them detained for questioning.”

Tiberius frowned. Several possible suspects immediately came to mind.

A Tribune, standing nearby, offered some advice. “Sir, I doubt that the Byzantine delegates are responsible. They would not be such idiots as to try to kill you… in this manner! It seems that the girl was the only ignorant person in this scheme. Clearly she was not familiar enough with the high aristocracy to know that there would be better protection. The person, or people, who sent her probably weren’t expecting her to make the mistake of going ahead with the plot with guards standing in clear sight.”

Tiberius agreed. “The eastern aristocracy is familiar with poisoning. I doubt that the Thracians are at fault. But as you said, her master could have expected her to exercise greater caution.” His mind flashed to Vibius Varro’s recent arrival in Byzantium. And, of course, the girl came from Byzantium. It couldn’t be a simple coincidence. The Magister Militum turned to the Tribune. “When the Consul arrives, have him see me… immediately. And make sure that thirty men from my personal guard unit are standing by.”

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The Road to the Magister Militum’s Camp
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Vibius Varro rode quickly, escorted by a rather large compliment of light horsemen. He was very anxious. The mission ahead would not be easy. Suddenly, a lone rider appeared in the distance. As the man and the group approached each other, the rider’s identity became evident. “Hermakos… I wonder if he brings good news?”

The news was not good for the Consul. Learning that his assassination plot had failed, Vibius pondered his options. They were limited. Perhaps his allies elsewhere would have better luck. For now, it was time to go on the defensive. Byzantium was well fortified. It would be able to hold out against an immediate attack, although he knew that sooner or later the loyalist forces would be able to overpower his two private legions. Vibius was known to be arrogant and overconfident, but he also accepted bad news with stoic resolve. His original ambitions may have been crushed, but he wasn’t ready to give up.

TO BE CONTINUED….
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By: Vitellius Vibius Varro, Annius Postumus Varro

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